Got change in my pocket for a bottle of gin
So open the outhouse door, let this weary soul in
I long for the fire, pipe in my hand
Only stop for a while and go walking the land

So it goes…
Along where the wind blows
They under stars wander the roads
Wander the roads

No family to speak of
No future to plan
Since I have none to live off the land

A sailor loves his ship
A soldier loves his camp
Give me country lanes
And I shall die a tramp

So it goes…
Along where the wind blows
They under stars wander the roads
Wander the roads